


Underground

by DenmarkStreetGutterClub



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Cormoran Is An Arse Man, Established Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike, Eye Contact Permits Won't Help You Here, F/M, Helpful Robin Ellacott, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Transportation, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 09:42:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29931537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DenmarkStreetGutterClub/pseuds/DenmarkStreetGutterClub
Summary: Robin and Strike are on the tube on a busy weekday. It's packed, and Robin is a bad, bad girl.
Relationships: Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Comments: 2
Kudos: 42





	Underground

The tube was packed. Absolutely fucking heaving. Strike always had the advantage of height and bulk to enable him to reach stabilizing train furniture, but neither he nor Robin enjoyed the crush of humanity around them, the smell of stale sweat, and that peculiar iron tang to the city air. Robin didn’t have his advantages, and was having trouble counterbalancing the motion of the train and the need to stay upright. She was also trying not to touch other people, or make eye contact, something which struck her, not for the first time, as faintly ridiculous. Standing in a long room, with tens and tens of other people who all understood, as you did, that the one big rule was to try not to touch each other, and to never, ever look in each other’s eyes.

Robin glanced at Strike behind her. Their eyes met and the motion of the carriage threw her into him a little. With his free hand, he instinctively held her waist. _ There you go, one big rule broken. Do not pass go, do not collect £200. _ Robin smiled to herself when she had turned her head back, ready to ignore all the other people again. A few seconds later she realized he was still holding her waist. Ordinarily, she’d have shifted, maybe made eye contact again and encouraged him to break contact, but today she was feeling a little rebellious about ridiculous rules. She liked his hand there. He didn’t do it ordinarily, when they were working, and was quite careful even outside of work, while they kept their brand new relationship secret. But he’d put his hand in more intimate places than her waist, though only three times so far, and she _ liked _ it, damn it.

While he still couldn’t see her face, she smiled, a little wickedly, and made a little bit more than necessary of the next wobble of the carriage and backed fully into him, arse-to-groin. She heard him cough. He was trapped in the smallest personal space bubble ever, needing to maintain the requisite distance from everyone behind him, and now unable to maintain any distance from her backside pushed against him. She stole another glance. He was resolutely following the only rule compliance left open to him, studying the colourful spaghetti lines of underground maps above the windows.

_ Oh right, like that is it?  _ She thought. She moved her hips in a barely perceptible figure of eight, a motion of challenge she was sure he would rebuff, as he did her eye contact, and just maybe bring it up later when they were alone. Instead, to her concealed delight, his hand slipped from her waist to her hip and pulled her more securely into him. Turning her head back to look ahead, she thought how strongly his fingers were gripping her, and then she realized why, as she felt his stiffness against the softness of her curving arse. If he was trying to stop her, he wasn’t being very enthusiastic about it. She feigned nonchalance, and then the carriage wobbled, and she tossed her hair to one side, exposing the back of her neck to him, and she could feel his breath there. She heard him cough again, but she didn’t look back. Instead, she put her own right hand over his and ground against him even harder.

She could tell he was trying to keep himself still as she moved, but she could also tell he was failing. His hips were pulsing his erection into the black material that covered the soft flesh of her backside, and she could hear, from this proximity, the quiet hitch in his breath as he tried to control himself.

She had already learned from their few times together that nothing quite hit her buttons like making him lose control. She saw he liked doing it to her, and she was nothing if not rather competitive with Strike in focused tasks, sex no exception. She wasn’t sure how far she was going to push this. Obviously they weren’t going to fuck in public. The social rule about no touching and no eye contact didn’t stretch quite that far.

She could wind him up, push him and hold him at the edge, and then see how quickly he could get her home, how long he could keep it going once they were in private.  _ Or,  _ she thought, and the wickedness of the thought thrilled and appalled her,  _ she could make him come right now.  _

She let out a little sigh and rolled her shoulders to mask a slight shift in the intensity of her hips rolling against him. She dared to take her hand from the rail she had been using to steady herself, and slipped it behind her, so that her right still covered his grip on her, and now her left was pulling at his hip even as she pushed back into his cock. She was literally clinging to him now to stay upright, and if he tried to move her away, he’d destabilize both of them. She felt his breath on her neck stuttering a little now. He had to keep silent, he had to try and stay still. He let out the tiniest of gasps, and shifted his grip to the front of her hip, pulling her back on him and trying to mask the low whimper he made with a fake yawn. She felt his head drop and he was resting his forehead against the back of her neck. Still she swirled in that heady figure of eight against him, still she wanted to push him over the edge. The carriage wobbled again and the shift in friction caused him to buck forward involuntarily and there was that deep, low whimper again, and she thought she might be close. She slipped her left hand between them and rubbed her fingers against his rigid length. It wasn’t tidy, and it still had to be slow, but she could feel the rock hardness beneath her fingers as she moved them.

“I think we’re nearly there,” she said, lightly, managing to keep her voice even, and flashed a teasing glance back at him. His face was betraying the effort he was making to appear normal, even as she pushed him to the limit, his brow furrowed, his mouth slightly slack, and then he pressed his lips together hard and nodded with controlled vigour and she squeezed his length even as she pressed her arse more firmly into him, and at the next hefty shudder of the train she heard him let out a helpless grunt and felt the twitching and pulsing through his trousers, and then the dampness under her fingers.

She shifted her weight, not too far, she didn’t want him collapsing, but just enough to allow her to turn to him. She lifted her hand to her mouth and bit on her thumb nail, her face coquettish as she looked at him. He was half smiling, shaking his head in disbelief, and a delicious flash in his eyes that told her she was in big trouble later, when he’d worked out how to get her back for this.

“Shall we get a taxi back?” Robin suggested.


End file.
